


Let Go

by eiluned



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dominance, Established Relationship, F/M, Flogging, Power Play, Spanking, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sexual frustration is a real bitch.  Luckily for Natasha, Clint has a solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Amanda for brainstorming with me and beta reading for me, and also for the hair-pulling thing. :D And I would love to hear what you think! Feedback is always welcome.

"God... damn it, I can't!"

Natasha pressed her face against Clint's shoulder, clenching her eyes shut against the tears of frustration that threatened to fall. She had never had problems like this, never, and especially not with Clint.

He stroked her back. "Hey," he murmured. "It's okay, babe."

"No, it's not!" she snarled, pushing herself upright and rolling her hips, desperate for more sensation.

God, he felt so good inside of her, but no matter what she did, she just... couldn't... come.

Clint sat up, slipping his arms around her waist. "Natasha," he said, his voice low. "Babe. Relax."

"I can't," she groaned, shifting so she was wrapped around him. "I don't know what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong with you," he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. "You're just... stressed out."

"Well, I can't exactly make that go away."

He leaned back and looked at her for a moment, a calculating glint in his eyes. "Maybe I can," he said.

Natasha gave him a skeptical eyebrow, and he grinned at her, the impish little smile that said he was thinking of all kinds of naughty things he could do to her. "And what exactly do you have in mind?" she asked.

\--

"Do I even want to ask how you collected all of this... stuff?" Natasha said, waving her hand at the drawer full of intimidating yet intriguing equipment.

Clint shrugged. "Picked it up here and there," he said, leaning against the wall.

He really looked good, she thought, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, deliciously naked. She wanted him, wanted to grind on his cock until she came shuddering against him, but goddammit, she just couldn't get there.

"And you think that tying me to the bedpost will help?"

Clint pushed away from the wall with his shoulders, his body arching in a way that made Natasha ache. "C'mere," he said, holding out his hand.

She let him pull her to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "Okay," he said, smoothing her hair back from her face. "Don't punch me. But babe... you're a control freak."

All Natasha had to do was raise an eyebrow, and Clint blanched a little, but he stood his ground. "You are," he said. "On a mission, that's good. That keeps you alive. But you can't control everything. Sometimes you need to let go and let someone else steer for a while."

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. It was... intriguing, but the thought of giving him complete control frightened her, as much as she hated to admit it even to herself. "And you want to steer," she said and felt her heart beat a little faster.

"I'm not going to lie," Clint answered, still stroking her hair, gentle but leaning into her in a way that made her feel small. "I'd like to tie you up and make you beg to be fucked. But what's important here is whether or not you want it."

"I thought the whole point was that I need to not be in control."

Turning her face back to his, he pressed a gentle kiss against her lips, almost as if he could read her mind and knew that she was on the edge of bolting. "Natasha," he said, brushing his fingertips against her cheek. "Even if I'm dominating you, you are always in control of the situation. If you say the word, everything stops. You'd just be handing me the reins until you're ready to take them back. But for a little while, you can let go and let me give you what you need."

Every ounce of instinct Natasha possessed fought against the idea, but part of her, a part that was growing bigger every second, wanted to let go so badly. That part wanted to be helpless and at Clint's mercy. She wanted to submit to him, to let him take control of her body, her pleasure.

"If I tell you to, you'll stop immediately," she said, and he smiled.

"Scout's honor."

"You were never a boy scout," she scoffed.

Clint laughed, kissing her again. "Yeah, but you know me."

"I trust you."

He looked taken aback, and Natasha felt guilty for not telling him that sooner. She trusted him more than anyone else, really. If she had to pick one person to have her back in a fight, it would be Clint, and if she trusted him with her life, she could trust him with this.

"Thank you," he said softly. "I trust you, too, Natasha."

She took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"Okay. You take the reins."

Taking her face in his hands, he leaned in and gave her a kiss that absolutely took her breath away. When he finally pulled away, nipping her bottom lip, he was smiling. "Tell me what you're comfortable with," he said. "What do you want me to do or not do to you?"

She caught her bottom lip between her own teeth, the little tingle of pain from his bite sending shivers through her body. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've never done this before."

"That's okay," he said, and she realized that he was deliberately pitching his voice into a low, soothing purr. "How about this: if I start doing something that you don't like or that makes you uncomfortable, you say 'yellow light.' That will tell me that you want me to stop whatever I'm doing, but not stop entirely. Say 'red light' and everything stops. Does that work for you?"

She nodded. "'Red light' is the safe word?"

"Yep. But my first thought was that our safe word should be 'fury,' because frankly, the thought of him pretty much kills any interest I might have in fucking."

That startled a laugh out of her, and Clint swooped in to steal another kiss. "Whenever you're ready, babe," he murmured against her lips.

She had to admit, she was a little afraid. But she trusted him, and she told him to take the reins, and Natasha never backed down once she made up her mind to do something.

She did want a little more time to come to terms with it, though. "Tell me what you want to do to me," she breathed.

Clint raised a teasing eyebrow. "Giving orders, are we, Agent Romanov?"

"I just know how much you like the sound of your own voice," she retorted.

Slipping off of the bed to kneel in front of her, he gave her a sharp-edged grin, his hands warm and heavy on her thighs. "What do I want to do to you?" he mused, his fingers tightening around her legs just a tiny bit. "Hmm. It's kind of hard to narrow it down."

"How about the highlight reel of your masturbation fantasies?" she said dryly.

"Who says I think about you when I'm rubbing one out?"

The impish grin sprawled across his face made it perfectly clear that he did. He slid his hands up her thighs, over her hips, tickling across her stomach and over her breasts, making her shudder as he brushed against her nipples. Suddenly, he pushed her shoulders, and Natasha flopped onto her back with an undignified squeak.

"Oh, I like that sound," he laughed, grabbing her hips and pulling her ass to the edge of the bed. "Let's see if I can make you do that again."

Taking an ankle in each hand, he started trailing kisses up the insides of both legs, flickering his tongue against the ticklish spots on her ankles and behind her knees, teasing her until she was writhing on the mattress. "Okay, here's a good one," he said, and she groaned at the lack of his tongue on her skin. "I cuff your hands together and lash them to the headboard. Then I tie your ankles down so you're spread-eagled and completely helpless."

Natasha's heart was suddenly pounding in her throat, and her clit was throbbing in time with her pulse. Her hand drifted toward the juncture of her legs, but Clint caught her wrist. "Uh uh," he admonished. "I don't think so. Now, do you want to hear the rest of my little fantasy or not?"

" _Yes_ ," she moaned, fisting her hands in the sheet to keep from touching herself.

Gripping her legs behind her knees, he folded them up against her torso, spreading her open, making her feel vulnerable. "Where was I?" he murmured, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her ankle.

"A little higher up my leg than that."

His eyebrow went up again. "My my, aren't we mouthy today," he said, putting a little more weight into her legs so that she was well and truly pinned. "So I have you tied down and at my mercy. The first thing I do is this."

Spreading her legs a little wider, he bent his head and sucked her nipples, back and forth, one then the other, until she was squirming and gasping. "Mm," Clint hummed, giving her nipple one last lick. "What do you think I would do next?"

"Oh god," Natasha gasped. "Go down on me..."

"Good idea," he said, shifting back to sit on his heels, gripping her legs tightly. "I lick my way down your gorgeous body and lap at your clit just the way you like, until you're right on the edge. Then I'd push my tongue inside you to feel you come."

She made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, her legs straining against his hold. "Oh god, Clint, oh god, make me come..."

"Does that mean you're ready?" he asked.

"I'm ready," she said breathlessly.

Lowering her legs, he leaned forward and framed her face with his hands, a faint smile playing around the corner of his mouth. "On your hands and knees," he said, as casually as if he were saying hello to the S.H.I.E.L.D. receptionist on the way into work in the morning.

She hesitated for a second, and Clint was suddenly on his feet, looming over her. "I said, on your hands and knees. In the middle of the bed," he said, just a little louder and with the barest hint of a threat in his tone. "Now."

Natasha scrambled to obey, her heart pounding. Through the curtain of her hair, she watched him pull his jeans back on and buckle his belt. He then crouched and carefully selected something out of his drawer, brought it over to the bed.

He had been silent that whole time, something that was unusual for Clint when he wasn't in sniper mode, and that silence was just as ominous now as it was when he was lining up a shot. Twitching her hair out of her eyes, she watched him as he climbed onto the bed and knelt beside her. There was a stillness to him, both his body and his expression, that made her wary even as it sent shivers of anticipation down her spine.

She hadn't even realized how tense she was until he stroked her back and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Easy," he murmured, drawing his palm down her spine, and she tried to relax into his touch.

He bent his head, and Natasha's eyes slammed shut when his tongue followed his hand in a luxurious path down the center of her back. "Mmm, I love making you shiver," he said, his breath cool against her damp skin, and then he licked his way back up her spine, making her moan.

Her arms wobbled a little when he got to the nape of her neck, his hand sweeping her hair to the side so he could set his teeth into her skin. The bite was gentle at first, but he slowly tightened his teeth until it rode the edge of pain, and she was sure it would leave a mark.

She collapsed down onto her elbows, and he followed her down, moving onto his knees behind her, his body draped over her back, trapping her underneath him. Releasing her skin from his teeth, he licked the bite mark, the sensation making her shudder against his body. "You're mine," he breathed, and Natasha couldn't help moaning.

She wasn't even bound, and yet she felt completely under his control. Even when she was tied up, getting the upper hand had never been a problem for her. But now... she didn't want to fight back, even though a large part of her was freaking out and demanding that she kick his ass right this second.

Natasha released a shuddery breath and let go.

Clint could obviously tell--her body must have relaxed or something--because he moved to sit beside her, wrapping his hand around her right wrist. She had no idea how she had never noticed the size of his hands before, but they were so much bigger than hers, easily spanning her wrist.

He stroked his fingertips over the back of her hand, a soothing touch, and then he slipped a leather restraint onto her wrist, deftly buckling it tight. The second one went on just as swiftly, and he clipped both cuffs to a ring so that her hands were bound together. He fastened a length of rope to the center ring and tied the end around the sturdy center post of his headboard, leaving about a foot and a half of slack.

The cuffs were by far the most comfortable she'd ever had around her wrists. The leather was stiff, but it was lined with some kind of soft material. She clenched her fists to squash the instinctual urge to slip the restraints.

The bed shifted as he got up and went back to his toy drawer. "Should I blindfold you?" he mused, and her breath caught in her throat. "No, I don't think so. I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come. Lie on your stomach and close your eyes. Keep them closed until I tell you to open them, or maybe I will blindfold you."

Natasha flattened her body out, squeezing her eyes shut. She could hear rustling as he chose something from the drawer, and then the bed dipped under his weight. Something soft brushed across her shoulder, and she gasped, pressing her face into the sheets.

"This," he said, his words punctuated by another brush, this one against her hip, "Is a suede flogger. It has twenty-four tails, and it is perfect against your skin."

The butter-soft tails swirled over her back and ass, a constant, ticklish sensation that made her squirm, squeezing her thighs together, and it went on until she thought she would lose her mind.

The tails suddenly drew away from her skin, but she barely had time to acknowledge the absence before Clint brought the flogger down in a sharp blow against her ass. She heard the snap more than felt it, but it still made her jump and gasp.

"Let's get you warmed up," he said, his voice dropping into a low growl.

The next blow fell in the exact same spot, and another, and another, each one slightly harder than the last. The suede hit her with a solid thud and just a tiny bit of sting, leaving her skin hot and shivery. He switched to the other side of her ass and repeated the pattern, moving back and forth until her ass felt like it was glowing with heat and her whole body was shaking. She could hear him breathing harder and faster as he whipped her, and she pushed her hips back at him unconsciously, straining for more.

The tails disappeared again, and she almost cried out at the sudden lack of sensation. He grabbed her hips, pulling her up onto her knees with the rope holding her wrists taut, and she did cry out when he suddenly pressed his mouth between her legs, his tongue darting inside her.

And then his mouth was gone, and Natasha was left gasping for breath, need a heavy throb in the pit of her belly.

Something hit the bedside table with a thump and Clint was suddenly hovering over her, his hips pressed against her ass. The denim and leather of his belt felt strangely sharp against her heated skin, and she gasped when he ground his erection against her.

The rope lashing her to the headboard suddenly went slack. He moved off of her, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her upright. "Open your eyes," he murmured into her ear. "C'mon. Get up."

Her legs nearly didn't hold her weight when he pulled her off of the bed, but his arm was locked tight around her, pressing her against his body. When she opened her eyes, they were facing the mirror above his dresser, and Natasha had to let her head fall back onto his shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glassy, and his tanned arm was dark against the skin of her stomach and breasts. She watched him loop the rope around his hand, watched him lower his face to nuzzle her neck.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," he breathed into her ear, sending a shiver rushing over her skin. "I loved whipping you. You were straining your hips up to meet the flogger, you know. Your body was begging for it."

She moaned and pressed back against him, arching her back, aching for him. Clint's hand slipped down from her waist, over the curve of her stomach and between her legs, fingers rubbing tight circles around her clit, wrenching a cry from her throat.

"Mmm, so wet," he groaned, plunging two fingers into her and pumping them in and out. "God, you're such a good girl, Natasha. I think you deserve a reward."

Slipping his fingers out, he tugged on her wrists and turned her around to face him. She moved to kiss him, but he caught her shoulder, a predatory glint in his eyes. "On your knees. I want you kneeling at my feet," he growled.

For a split second, the urge to fight him was almost overwhelming. "Yellow light" was on the tip of her tongue, but she forced herself to take a deep breath. This was Clint. She trusted him--hell, maybe even loved him if she was being completely honest with herself. She took another deep breath and released it, then slowly sank to her knees.

He stroked her hair, gently tipping her chin up so she could see the fond smile dancing around the corners of his mouth. "Such a good girl," he murmured, and she felt a strange surge of... something that felt like pride.

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, slipping his hand under the denim and wrapping it around his erection. "Open your mouth, lover," he said, pulling his cock free.

Holding his gaze, she parted her lips and watched his face flush a little. She could imagine what she looked like, naked, on her knees and pliant to his will, her mouth ripe and ready for him. She wanted him so, so badly, wanted to please him, wanted him to take her and make her come apart at the seams.

The tip of his cock was damp with precum. She licked her lips and tasted the salt as he brushed the head against her mouth. Shifting a little closer to his legs, she rested her bound hands on his thigh and took as much of his cock as she could into her mouth, curving her tongue around the underside and sucking gently.

It was his head that fell back this time. Breathing through her nose, Natasha bobbed her head back and forth, taking in a little more each time, swirling her tongue around the tip on the out stroke and swallowing on the in stroke. His thighs began to tremble, and she reveled in being able to do this to him, to make him weak with pleasure.

But all too quickly he pulled back, slipping his cock out of her mouth with a groan. "Mm, you are too good at that," he panted. "Did you want to make me come in your mouth?"

The thought had definitely occurred to her, and she nodded up at him, biting her bottom lip. Clint pulled her to her feet, pressing his wet cock against her stomach. "I love coming in your mouth, Tash," he said, brushing his nose against her cheek. "I love it when you swallow my dick whole, baby. But this time, I want to come inside you. Oh, you want that more, don't you?"

A whimper had escaped her at those words, and she had to lick her suddenly dry lips. "Yes," she whispered, wetness surging between her thighs.

He tugged at the rope around her wrists, stepping aside. "Back on the bed," he ordered. "On your elbows and knees."

She crawled back onto the mattress, shivering a little with anticipation. Clint tied the rope to the headboard, knotting it well. Once he was sure she was secure--and she was; she tugged at the rope but it was lashed tight--he shoved the bed pillows under her hips. "Lie down on your stomach," he said.

The pillows formed a wedge that kept her hips thrust upward. For some reason, this position made her feel so much more vulnerable than she had before, and that turned her on beyond belief. She wanted him so, so badly, wanted to feel him inside of her, needed him to fuck her hard until she came apart.

His hand suddenly came down on her ass in a sharp slap. She gasped at the sting on her already sensitive skin, and her body was suddenly thrumming with something she couldn't quite identify. It was very much like the rush at the beginning of a good fight, where she knew her body would hurt, but the surge of adrenaline would be so good.

"You liked that," he said. "You want more?"

Natasha moaned, pressing her forehead against the cool sheets.

Clint leaned close to her, ghosting his lips over the back of her shoulder. "I'm going to need you to answer me," he breathed into her ear. "What do you want, Natasha?"

She swallowed hard, trying to lean into his body. "Please, Clint," she whispered.

"Please what?"

"Please..."

She didn't even know what she was trying to ask. She wanted more, more of everything he was willing to dish out. She wanted... It hit her with startling clarity.

"I want you to hurt me."

She heard his breath catch, and he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder before pushing himself up onto his knees. Turning her head, she watched him tug his belt loose, the leather slithering through his belt loops with a sound that sent a thrill of dread through her body.

He bent the belt in half, grasping both ends in his left hand, testing its weight and flex. "Close your eyes, Natasha," he said, his voice strangely gentle.

Pressing her face into the sheets again, she clenched her eyes shut, squeezing her hands into tight fists.

The first stroke of his belt was gentle, more of a tap than a stroke, but it sent a shudder through her anyway. She wanted more than a tap, though; she pushed her hips back as much as she could, straining against the bindings on her wrists.

The second stroke wasn't much harder, and she made a frustrated noise.

The third stroke took her breath away. The leather snapped against her ass, and then a fourth time, and tears pricked her eyes. It hurt, but it hurt so good, balanced on the razor edge between pain and pleasure, and this was exactly what she needed.

The fifth stroke made her scream.

"Natasha," he said, and even through the haze of pleasure-pain she could hear the worry in his voice.

"More!" she cried. "Please, more..."

The belt came down again, and it felt like something broke loose deep inside of her. She was suddenly sobbing, yanking at her restraints, so desperate to come but unable to reach it without him.

One final blow made her whole body shudder, and then he threw the belt aside; she heard it hit the floor in a slap of leather and the jangle of the buckle striking wood. His hands went around her hips, and suddenly he was inside of her, his hips snapping against her sore ass. The denim of his jeans scraped against the skin of her thighs, and the combination of sensations made her cry out.

He pounded into her, one hand gripping her waist and the other moving up to grasp her hair, pulling her head back sharply. 

After a few more thrusts, he abruptly pulled out, leaving her gasping and cursing. "Ssh, baby," he said, and she could feel him shifting around on the bed. "I'm not going anywhere."

Natasha pushed hard with one knee, trying to flip herself onto her back, but the pillows were in the way. "Need you," she moaned. "Please, Clint, please, need you on top of me..."

He yanked the pillows out from under her, throwing them off the bed, and turned her over. He was naked now, and his jeans were nowhere to be seen, but she didn't care about anything other than the fact that they were gone. Spreading her thighs and pushing two fingers into her pussy, he pumped them in and out, curling them up in a way that hit her g-spot and made her writhe, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"God, you're so good, Natasha," he growled, his other hand stroking his hard cock. "You're so good, such a good girl."

"Please!" she cried, digging her heels into the mattress.

"Please what?"

"Please, please, make me come, oh god, please..."

He pulled his fingers out and sucked them into his mouth, still jerking off, and Natasha couldn't think anymore. Her brain had shorted out, and all she could think or feel was that she needed his cock inside of her, needed to come more than anything else in the world. She pushed her hips up at him, where he knelt between her thighs, and luckily he took the hint before she completely lost her mind.

"God, I love how you taste," he said, his voice a rumble. "Open your mouth."

He slipped his fingers between her lips, and she sucked on them desperately as he hitched her leg around his hips and rammed his cock home. Bracing his hand on the headboard, he fucked her hard and fast, angling his hips so that each thrust pounded against her swollen clit.

She could feel an orgasm building at the base of her spine, all of that coiling energy that had been so elusive earlier now growing heavier and stronger. Clint tugged his fingers from her hungry mouth and gripped the headboard with both hands, using it as leverage to slide his knees forward, changing the angle just enough to make her see stars.

Two more thrusts, and Natasha was gone. Her whole body spasmed, and she could vaguely hear herself screaming, but absolutely everything had narrowed to just that moment, to her pussy gripping his cock, her legs locked around him, her body trapped underneath his, the pleasure wracking her mercilessly.

His arms were suddenly around her, and Clint went stiff, thrusting impossibly deep, letting out a long, low groan. The feel of his cock jerking inside of her sent a new wave of shuddering pleasure crashing through her body. The endorphin rush was so strong that she was on the edge of passing out, her mind and body floating in sensation.

After a long moment, she realized that he was unbuckling the cuffs around her wrists. As soon as her hands were free, he rolled them onto their sides, pulling her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest and sobbing for breath.

She felt completely broken, but there was a beauty to it, as if she had put herself through fire and come out with a new understanding of herself.

"Shh," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You did good, babe. God, you were so good."

His hands were so gentle as he stroked her back, such an amazing contrast from the man who was strapping her with his belt a little while ago. Natasha relaxed into the warmth of his body, her breathing gradually slowing down, her ability to think slowly returning.

"You okay, Tash?" he asked, his voice a rumble in his chest.

Releasing a shaky breath, she lifted her head to find him smiling at her, a tender curve of his lips that made her heart stutter a little. "I'm okay," she said, surprised to find herself hoarse.

He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb and ran his fingers back through her hair, tugging her forward for a kiss that was so sweet that she melted against him. "Clint," she breathed against his lips, sinking her hand into his short hair.

"Mm," he hummed in reply, leaning into her and kissing her deeply.

She tilted her head back until he had to break the kiss, and he made a grumpy face at her. Stifling a laugh, Natasha cupped his cheek. "Thank you," she said softly.

Clint smiled again, looking pleased and satisfied. "You're welcome," he replied, pulling her into another long kiss.

He retrieved the blanket from the floor, where it had been kicked what seemed like ages ago, and tugged it over their bodies. Natasha curled into his arms, feeling warm and safer than she had felt in as long as she could remember. She drifted off to sleep listening to him breathe.


End file.
